Reverie
by Louise Ellis
Summary: Sharon takes time to contemplate the last few weeks...


Closing the door behind her, Sharon leaned on it for a moment, just listening to the silence before her eyes focused on a single piece of paper leaning on the vase of flowers that were on the small table just up the hallway. Moving forward, she touched one of the lily petals lightly before picking up the paper and squinting at it. "Saw these on the way here and made Provenza stop. Thought you'd like them." She bit her lip for a moment before continuing, "yes, I ate dinner, he said you'd be late again. Left you a plate when I went to bed. See you in the morning...R."

Continuing down the hall, she sighed. He'd stuck his head into her office earlier, but hadn't been able to get anything out, just stared at her for a moment before mumbling something about seeing her when she got home, and could they talk about something then? At her smile, he'd nodded and spun around, returning to his study time with Kris. Unfortunately, she'd once again gotten caught up in the paperwork for the recent cases as well as some other issues and hadn't made it home until after eleven. Again.

Absently, she set her purse and the bag she'd brought home, some sort of pasta dish Andy had sent with her, again as thanks for her accompanying him to the wedding, down in the kitchen and went into the bedroom, locking her gun up in the small safe next to the bed before starting to change clothes.

She'd just started to hang up her blazer in the closet when something in the back caught her eye and she reached back and pulled out one of Jack's shirts...the one he'd left years before along with the original suit he'd left in the other closet. Holding it up to her face, she inhaled. Once, it had still held his scent, one she'd needed one night after returning home after a difficult case, and both children had been fighting the flu, and she'd just needed something to wrap herself up in to remind herself that she hadn't been alone, although it had seemed like it at the time, and almost like the Jack she'd married had been holding her.

As time passed, she found herself still wearing the shirt on occasion, even though it had been laundered and through the years had lost his scent. By that time, it had changed from a symbol of what her husband had been at one point to her, to a shirt that she could find her own strength in. She hadn't worn it in some time, but...dropping the rest of her clothes in the hamper, she pulled on the shirt and a pair of yoga pants before padding back down the hall toward the kitchen, pausing outside Rusty's door for a moment to listen, before continuing.

Setting the container of pasta in the refrigerator, she poured herself a glass of wine and took a sip as she gazed out the window, her eyes not really focusing on the lights of the city as she thought back over the last few days...not the cases she'd been involved in, except for Matteo's...and what a mess that had become, so many lives impacted...but instead to the conversations she and Rusty had been having. With a sigh, she topped off the glass and carried it to the living room, stopping to grab her purse and take it with her. Sitting on the couch, she absently pressed the control to turn on the television, automatically hitting the mute button as soon as the unit came on.

Placing the wine glass carefully on the coffee table, she reached into her purse and pulled out a large envelope that she'd been carrying around for several days, her badge catching on it and falling onto the table next to the glass. Tossing the envelope next to it, she picked up the wine glass and took a sip as she rested back into the cushions, changing the channels until something caught her eye. Blinking at the image on the screen, she touched the info button...'San Diego Ballet, Sleeping Beauty and other works." Her lips twitched and she unmuted the sound, lowering it to a soft level as she watched the dancers glide effortlessly across the stage. They made it look so easy, she thought, remembering not only her own years of training, but also the years that her daughter had studied. So much work, sweat, pain, and tears to make it look so easily done. Absently, she stretched out a foot and flexed then pointed it a few times, critically assessing how much of a turnout she still possessed. She'd heard something about a new exercise fad based on the barre exercises she'd spent hours doing, perhaps she'd look into it, even if for old times sake. Maybe when her daughter came to visit...a class, then a spa day...Maybe. She took another sip and refocused on the screen.

It was so easy, being aloof and not caring, Aurora remained separate from the other dancers, one dancer portraying her as she slept through the movements around her, another dancer portraying her dream self...moving through the dancers yet not part of their choreography. Observing, yet not participating...Sharon blinked and pulled a pillow toward her chest and resting her chin on it. Much like she'd been for so many years. She'd focused on her career, her children, being both parents when Jack wasn't there, her occasional lunches with Gavin, who always entertained, and kept her apprised of what was happening in the world that didn't revolve around the LAPD, her parents, who even at their ages had more of a life than she did...but it had been enough, and when the kids had gone out into the world, both strong individuals who she shared a bond with, but didn't need to smother...they'd all been...become so independent...she'd focused solely on work. Making sure that the officers had a voice, no matter if it had appeared otherwise...

Until she'd been assigned that damn case with Brenda Leigh. She sighed again and took a big swallow of wine. Somehow, the entire unit had wiggled under her skin, and suddenly IA wasn't the safe, controlled world it had been for her. Not only dealing with Brenda's case and impending possible promotion, but Andy reappearing into her life as more than an officer she'd occasionally shared patrol with when they'd both been rookies. Her lips twitched, remembering the outrage on the rest of the squads faces when he'd called her after being shot. They may have become apparent adversaries, but there was still a bond of trust, forged from walking the street patrols years before. Her smile grew nostalgic as she remembered him telling her she should always know all the rules, because if you didn't know them, how would you find the loopholes. A saying she'd become fond of, if not for the reasons he'd originally told her, but to find and close the loopholes as she was in IA.

Focusing on the screen again, she noticed that the ballet had progressed and Aurora was slowly waking...joining the dancers bit by bit in their movements. Sharon sighed. Didn't Aurora know that it had been much simpler while asleep, her dream self could observe without becoming personally involved? Sharon herself was living proof. She'd been happy in IA, working to keep officers safe, for equal opportunities for all qualified officers, behind the scenes, so to speak, observing but not having to interact on a personal level beyond getting the information she needed. Then...she sighed. The whole Brenda Leigh thing, even if it had been thrust upon her by Pope, she shuddered slightly and took another swallow of wine, It had been manageable, until Brenda had taken the other job, and Taylor and Pope had decided that she'd been the best option for leadership of the unit. 'A new outlook and perspective' was how they'd played it, 'a chance for you to get out of the office more', she snorted softly, and then she'd been encouraged to delegate and manage from the office. She actually spent less time out of the building now than she had when she'd been IA.

And then there was Rusty. Uncurling herself from the couch as the ballet went to an intermission, she crossed to the kitchen and refilled the glass one last time, shooting a look at his closed door before raising up on her toes and opening the top cabinet. Taking out a small bag, she opened it and shook out two of the wrapped chocolates that were there. Imported from Europe and a gift from Gavin, she kept them in a plain bag, tucked up out of sight, and only eaten when entirely necessary, even though he'd promised to always keep her supplied. Replacing the bag, she picked up the glass and returned to the couch and muted the commercials asking for donations for the station. Carefully unwrapping one chocolate, she took a bite and savored it for a moment before taking a sip of the wine, the two flavors mixing and sending a mild euphoric rush through her as she swallowed.

Although Rusty had been thrust upon her, she'd come to care for him, more deeply than she'd ever let the likes of Emma Rios or anyone not in the unit know. And, she understood him, understood the need he had to separate himself from everyone and everything. To protect himself. But, something had changed in the last few weeks, and it wasn't just the friendship with Kris, Jackson's abrupt entry and subsequent departure...her eyes wandered to the large envelope on the table in front of her...Rusty needed to talk to someone, she knew it. Just as Gavin had made her go talk to someone...but she couldn't force him, and he was so...she took another bite of the chocolate reflectively and sighed. She'd ached to take him in her arms when he'd lashed out at her a few nights earlier, just hold on to him and have him just let go...but he wasn't ready, and if she was being truthful, she wasn't sure if she was.

Whatever his sexuality was, it didn't matter, and the comment that he'd made the night before, about his not being a kid, unfortunately was true. And how had she not known about the boy from Chess Club...he just wanted it to be so simple, to learn, and to play Chess. It was what he deserved, but they both knew he'd never have just that. Since Kris had returned to the station with him to study, she wasn't sure how that was progressing...there were so many things that Rusty had referred to that he 'didn't deserve', or 'wasn't good enough for'...she just hoped that allowing himself to have a friend wasn't one of them. And while she hoped that Kris just wanted him as a friend, or would recognize that with all he'd been through, Rusty needed a friend close to his age, whether male or female, she could see the signs of interest on the girls part. And Rusty was right, Kris was nice. Hopefully they could continue, since her mother apparently...Sharon's mind paused, remembering the conversation they'd had. And that something had triggered an alarm, but then there was the heartwrenching video...

Slowly she unwrapped the second chocolate, trying to remember. There had been something...shaking her head, she sighed and took a bite. There was something Rusty wasn't telling her. Something he was hiding enough to start lashing out about other things, including his too close to the truth stab about her inability to give breakup advice since she was still married after twenty years separation. Her usual response of 'it's all very Catholic' was out the window as a possibility after Jackson's last visit. Tossing the wrapper on the table, she picked up the wine and the envelope, turning it so the white pieces of paper inside fell out. Although she'd torn it up, she hadn't been able to throw it away.

When Jackson had returned, it had been a whirlwind of emotions, many of which she wasn't accustomed to. She hadn't realized how much she'd changed in the past year, with the change of jobs, and the inclusion of Rusty in her life...her eyes flicked to the screen where another ballet was starting, looked like Stravinsky's Firebird Suite, a tempestuous number she'd always enjoyed seeing the variations on...still, Jackson had sailed back in and she'd played the role she always had, to a point. As had he. He'd tried to convince her to take him back to bed...which had occasionally worked over the years, but this time, she'd let herself be amused by him, but had also remembered that even when she'd let him in, knowing that he'd be gone soon, she'd remained emotionally separate, able to take part in the physical because she hadn't allowed herself to be emotional about anything.

A tear rolled unnoticed down her cheek as she rested her chin on the pillow. He hadn't expected her to become emotional, as she hadn't allowed herself to in the past. And she'd almost even lowered herself to his level of manipulative behavior, in order to get what she needed for the case. Would she have treated another lawyer the same way...or did she count on his being so eager for work...she shuddered and took a sip of wine. When she'd lashed out at him, he'd looked stunned. As stunned as she'd felt after it was all over. And when she'd come in the door that night, she'd known, even before the key turned, that she'd find an envelope. She'd changed, she'd allowed her environment to change...and he hadn't been able to adapt to the change. And Rusty was right, she had no right to tell anyone about breakup advice. And she hadn't read the letter yet, maybe later, but not yet. Leaning forward, she put the pieces back into the larger yellow envelope and stuffed it back into her purse, pausing for a moment to gaze at her shield. She'd worked damned hard for the piece of metal. And for what it stood for. Slowly she dropped it into the purse on top of the letter. And perhaps it was more important that the envelope it was now...envelope. Letter.

She breathed in sharply, sitting up and staring at Rusty's door as the music swirled around her, the discordance in harmony with the icy emotion that flooded through her. 'Letters' Kris' mother had said. Plural. And Rusty had been becoming more and more emotional, lashing out more than in the past, a sign she'd taken as he was becoming more comfortable, with all of them his extended new family...but, now...if there were more letters...Emma would never let him remain, and this was the first stability he'd had in so long, but...she absently drained the glass and set it on the table before sinking back into the cushions of the sofa and pulling the accent pillow to her chest again. Maybe it was time to tell him about her own encounters with a...shrink. Another tear ran down her cheek as she stared at the dancers, the colors of their costumes seeming to blend as she stared at them.

Several hours later, Rusty's door slowly opened and he cautiously moved toward the kitchen to get a drink of water. Realizing the television was on, he frowned and moved toward it, stopping as he focused on Sharon, sound asleep on the couch, her arms wrapped around a pillow as if she was holding on for dear life. At the sight of the empty wine glass, he paused, then shook his head. This was Sharon, not his mom. And at the two empty wrappers, his lips twitched. He knew very well about her hidden stash. And that Gavin expected Rusty to contact him if she started getting low, as not only would he need to replenish them, but also find out what was wrong with her.

Tilting his head, his smile faded as he realized there were tear streaks down her cheeks. Maybe he'd call Gavin anyway. Picking up the control from where it was next to her, he turned the tv off, ending the static that had been playing, and gently covered her with the soft blanket that was folded over the arm of the couch. Taking her empty glass, he set it softly in the sink and got a bottle of water from the refrigerator before turning the light off. Pausing once more to look over at her as she sighed in her sleep, he bit his lip. Maybe in the morning, he'd fix her breakfast, and they could talk. There were some things he needed her to know...


End file.
